


If You Were Free

by WordGeek



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Coping, Episode Related, Episode: s01e13 Hathor, Episode: s01ep12 Fire and Water, Guilt, M/M, Missing Scene, POV First Person, Present Tense, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-16
Updated: 2006-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordGeek/pseuds/WordGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's the cost of understanding the way it has to be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Were Free

One of the best things about sending the MALP through first is that if the planet's inhabited, it practically guarantees an audience once we walk through. This time's no exception, and the small crowd of drably dressed native folk bow and nod and smile at us as my anthropologist goes into his shtick. He uses his hands and his facial expressions, sometimes even his whole body, to get his point across. It can be pretty entertaining to watch; I've never seen a more uninhibited individual in my life.

As Daniel turns to me, no doubt looking to include me in the love-in he's got going on, I'm feeling a warm, happy glow radiating from him, which I've learned means 'everything here's spiffy, and I'm havin' a blast'. "They say the palace is a short distance down that road," he reports excitedly, pointing vaguely back over his shoulder with one thumb.

"No yellow bricks," I observe wryly. "Should be safe. Lay on, MacDuff."

I get an amused double take; clearly he's impressed that I actually used the correct quote. I flash him a smug grin, and we're off to see the wizard. A twenty minute walk through woods that look so familiar, it could be the Pacific Northwest if I didn't know better, and we're climbing the steps to the palace, with Carter goin' ape-shit over the banded green stone that makes up the building's outside walls.

"Sir, this looks like malachite!"

"No!"

"Yes!" She looks at me sideways and frowns, trying to determine if I'm pulling her leg, decides I am, then rolls her eyes. We're really starting to gel as a unit, my little team, and it feels good. "Malachite is a semi-precious stone on Earth, Colonel, but it must be much less rare here, if they're using it as a building material like marble."

"Aaannnd?"

She sputters for a moment then shrugs. "It's pretty."

"Ah. Any practical military value you can think of, Captain? Other than to enhance the decor in your living room?"

She looks contrite. "None that I can think of, sir."

I shoot her a smile to let her off the hook, then tense up as we enter what's apparently the throne room. "Heads up, people," I order quietly.

Typically, Daniel's utterly oblivious to any potential danger, and this time's no exception. He's completely enthralled with the place. I hear him muttering something about 'early Mesopotamian influences' and promptly tune him out.

I do a threat assess on automatic. Massive polished columns of this green malachite stuff hold up a ceiling two or three stories high. No guards, no weapons. People, both men and women, scurry about dressed in some kind of see-through togas, which is plenty different -not to mention distracting- from the welcoming committee, who all seem to be wearing various shades of more utilitarian tan stuff. Doorways lead to halls that go places I can't see. Still no weapons in sight. As we get up closer to the throne, it becomes apparent that the longhaired kid sitting in it can't be a day over eighteen.

And he's naked. Completely

Except for some oddly disconcerting body adornments.

Gleaming gold cuffs on his biceps, which seem to sprout boldly sweeping tattoos covering both his shoulders. Not a spec of body hair that I can see, and I can see plenty. His dick looks to be uncut and mostly hard -and hey, if he didn't want folks gawkin' at it, he shoulda covered it up, right? In any case, I can't see much of it because of the gold metal snake thingy that's coiled around the entire length of it, complete with some kind of faceted jewels for eyes, catching the sun coming in from the skylights I just noticed. And _oh, christ_ that looks like it hurts, pierced nipples connected by a not-lightweight-looking gold chain. Aw, _man._ P4C-991 just skyrocketed to a fifteen on the 'one-to-ten-weird-out-O'Neill' scale.

I glance over at Carter's face and note a shade of red I've never seen in nature. Teal'c is, as I've come to discover these last couple of months, completely impassive and outwardly unmoved by anything. Daniel's mesmerized. "Looks like Tarzan forgot his loincloth this morning," I quip quietly, in an effort to snap him out of it.

"What? Oh. Um, actually, Jack, certain cultures revere the human form and reserve public nudity for only the most beautiful members of the ruling class. See the elders over there? The ones with the toga-like wraps? Probably part of the ruling class, but no longer considered beautiful to look at."

"Un-huh. Speaking of which... does the boy king remind you of anyone?"

Daniel appraised the kid, who had risen from his throne and was now gliding toward us, nipple-chain and coiled snake a-swaying with each step. Daniel's obviously trying real hard not to linger on the decorative objects that adorn the man's body. "Mmm, Ra, maybe. With the.. um, jewelry."

"Look again."

"What?"

"I didn't know you when you were a teenager," I murmur, keeping my voice as low as I can, "but I'd bet dollars to donuts you looked a lot like that."

Daniel glances at the alien again, a little nervously this time, and really looks at him this time. Long, straight, almost blue-black shoulder length hair. Dark eyes, slender build. Then I see his eyes track to the man's groin and then flicker away as quickly. "Um... no?"

Wasn't talkin' about that part of him; face is a dead ringer, though. "If you say so." I shoot Teal'c a glance, and he's still cool, calm, and collected. My man. "Anything about this lookin' familiar?"

"Nothing. This world seems free of Goa'uld influences."

"My kind of planet," I pronounce, jerking my chin toward Tarzan. "You're on, Doctor Jackson."

Daniel pushes his boonie back off his head and launches into his well-practiced spiel. After a few minutes of give and take, he manages to learn enough of their language to find out the Ra look-alike's title is 'Pasha', and, teenager or not, he's The Man in this province. They talk for a few more minutes while Daniel attempts to get across our mission directives-- just peaceful explorers with a burning desire to get to know them and establish trade. Yadda.

I'm watching all this back and forth stuff with one eye while the other's taking in the rest of the folk in the palace. Not getting any bad vibes yet; everybody seems to be minding their own business and mostly ignoring us. It's hotter than blazes in there; no wonder they run around mostly naked. I'm glad I left my jacket back in my locker; I'm sweating like a pig under the weight of this heavy vest. Naked people piss me off, just on general principles.

Daniel and His Royal Highness Head Naked Dude chatter amicably while the rest of us stand back, relaxed but ready. You just never know when a subtle nuance'll get dropped in the translation and be interpreted by the locals as 'we have superior firepower, and we're taking all your women and wealth now'.

Which isn't actually a bad idea, considering some of the women I've seen so far. Young, nubile, nearly naked- whoa, there, O'Neill. That's exactly the kind of boner-headed thinking that got you Nookie with Nanites last month. Not in a hurry for a repeat of that, if ya know what I mean.

Carter's trying to act all nonchalant about this guy's fashion show; only her occasional throat-clearing's giving away her discomfort. But after the way she jumped me in the locker room after the Land of Light soirée, I'm not buying her 'Miss Innocent' act anymore. Still, Tarzan's headed this way, and he looks like he's got something on his mind. I catch Teal'c's eye, and we unobtrusively close ranks around Carter, sending a subtle message of our own.

Daniel's watching our host's expression as he closes in on us. "Um, I don't think he's after Sam, Jack..."

Yeah, but I can see that Tarzan's sporting some impressive wood there, and I force a smile through clenched teeth. "Better safe than sorry. What's he saying?"

Daniel's shaking his head behind Tarzan as he walks toward us. "I have no idea; he's muttering. Seems pretty obvious he's rather enthralled with Teal'c, though."

From the corner of my eye, I see Teal'c stiffen as the alien begins to circle him, almost sniffing him. He's in no way intimidated by this creature, but I know Tarzan's interest is neither desired nor returned. "Easy, big guy."

"I do not wish this person to continue his attentions towards me."

"Readin' ya loud and clear there, buddy; I'm sure he means it as a compliment, though--right, Daniel? Just take it easy for a minute, okay? Daniel, you wanna let Tarzan here know Teal'c doesn't swing that way?"

Daniel hurries to explain it to the leader, who's obviously not really listening; the kid continues to inspect Teal'c as if he's a side of prime beef. His eyes rake Teal'c with intensely focused interest, from the top of his shiny head to his size thirteens. He uses his left forefinger to trace his own bottom lip as his right hand loosely strokes his lengthening cock.

Okay, this is bad; really, really bad. I'm not sure when he did it or where he put it, but somehow, he's removed the gold snake thingy from his dick, and now there's nothing keeping it from rising happily to the occasion. No interpretation needed to translate the expression on Naked Guy's face as he runs his thumb across the now-exposed head, bringing the bead of precum to his own mouth, and using the tip of his tongue to sample his own wares.

Not helpful or even very intelligent, but, "Aw, crap," is the only thing I can think to say to that.

Tarzan's mumbling something, still looking up at Teal'c, who's steadfastly refusing to meet his eyes.

"Uh-oh," Daniel gulps.

"Daniel?"

"He's, um... he's really interested in Teal'c's... ah, lips, apparently. Y'know, this is really fascinating--"

_"Dan- _yell." I pride myself on the note of understated urgency in my voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. Um..." Daniel starts rattling off some gibberish that appears to be going clear over Nude Guy's head. Every once in a while, English'll come spilling out as Daniel searches for a comparable gibberish word. "... ways, laws, customs..." and he's off again in gibberish, slowly grinding to a halt when it's obvious Tarzan's got better things to think about.

Daniel crowds in beside him a bit, insinuating one shoulder between the Boy King and Teal'c. "Um, excuse me? Hello?"

But Tarzan's jonesin' for Teal'c, and not in a good way. Not that there _is_ a good way. "Dan. Yell," I enunciate clearly.

"I'm trying!" Daniel hisses at me over his shoulder, making a face that says, _'if you'd just shut up, I could think better'._ "Um...Sir? Your Lordship?" he tries again, then launches into the gibberish equivalent non-stop.

Suddenly, Tarzan turns to look directly at Daniel, and my linguist's speech screams to a stop, probably bowled over by the sheer amount of lust rolling off this guy. Naked Dude's fully hard now, his dripping dick pointing north like some kind of slutty compass.

Oh, for cryin' out loud, did Carter just whimper? I smack her in the arm. "Snap out of it, Captain. Eyes front."

"Yes, sir," she chokes.

All of a sudden, Tarzan smiles, all dimples and shiny teeth and damned if he isn't the spitting image of Daniel Jackson; a dark-haired, coal-eyed, teenaged twin for my civilian consultant. Words are exchanged, and Daniel finally turns to me, flushed and sweating.

"The Pasha says he's going to have someone show us to a place where we can refresh ourselves and rest until sundown, and then we're welcome to join them for their evening meal, at which point he'll entertain the idea of the whole 'establish trade' thing."

I quickly weigh the risks against the possibility of finding something useful to bring back with us and decide Teal'c's a big enough man to withstand a little groupie worship for a good cause, so I nod my agreement. Some old guy in a see-through toga motions for us to follow him. Note for mission report: offer these guys a truckload of Levi's; old and wrinkly is not a good look in a transparent toga.

As we're shuffling out of the throne room, I glance back over my shoulder and see Nude Guy taking a seat on his throne as one of his male underlings scurries over and kneels between his legs. I get Carter by one elbow and propel her along ahead of me. "Let's move along, Captain, nothing more to see here..." As we round the corner at the doorway, I take one last glimpse and see Tarzan grabbing on to the guy's head with both hands, his eyes sliding shut.

O-ka-hay. This is gonna make for an interesting debrief.

*****

"One room's all we need; not stayin' that long; not splitting up the team," I announce firmly. Daniel translates this to Wrinkled Guy, and we're left in a room with a sleeping platform big enough for two, something that looks like a couch, and what turns out to be a serviceable bathroom. There's a balcony off one wall, and I open the glass-paned door and step outside to recon the view.

We're two stories up, with more above us; this is the palace, after all. None of the buildings lining the dirt street below are any taller than one level. Simple structures, more than huts, but not by much.

"You took that very well," Daniel says quietly behind me.

"What's that?"

"Pasha's little display back there."

"I've seen guys naked before, Daniel," I say easily. "His performance was a little over the top, but to each their own. Everybody's got a little exhibitionist in 'em, I guess; he just took it to an extreme. Carter may be scarred for life, though."

Daniel chuckles and moves to stand next to me. "The man... servicing him... that's his job," he says softly.

"I figured that."

"I'm pretty sure that's what the Pasha's interest in Teal'c was all about."

"Figured that, too. When we get down to business, you'll make it clear to Pasha-Tarzan that Teal'c and his sexy lips are coming back through the gate with us, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I wasn't going to trade him for-"

"I knew that. You might wanna reassure Teal'c, though." Both hands on the railing, I stand and breathe deep of the warm alien air. Daniel doesn't move or say anything else, but I can feel him looking at me, like he's waiting for something. "What's on your mind, Daniel?"

"Um... did you really think he looked like me?"

I shrug, "If you ignore the dark coloring, yeah. He could be your long-lost twin."

I can feel him chewing on this, and I'm pretty sure I know why; he's pronounced the guy 'beautiful', and I'm telling him they're nearly identical; now he's not sure what to read into that, and frankly, I'm not, either. "They say everybody's got a double somewhere, right? Yours just happens to live a long ways from home and has some unusual fashion sense, that's all."

He grunts absently. "Aaannnd?" I prod.

He quickly shakes his head. "I just... nothing. It's not important." He turns to walk back into the room behind us. Something in the set of his shoulders tells me there's more. I'm not real good at this touchy-feely crap, but if something's bugging a member of my team, I've got to try and figure it out, smooth it over, whatever, so it doesn't affect the unit or our ability to function. We're in a completely alien culture here, and I can't risk having my linguist being distracted by anything. Besides, I kinda owe him; I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.

"Daniel..."

He looks back, poised on the threshold. "Yeah?"

I turn to look at him and notice for the first time how very tired he looks. The last couple of months have been rocky for him, I know that. Seeing his kidnapped wife protecting Apophis with her body, then having to destroy the one gizmo we've found that could've freed Sha're from the monster inside her, because it was the only way to save Teal'c. Carter told me what he did on Chulak last week, blasting the hell outta that tank of baby snakes; I probably would've done the same in his place. You'd never know it to look at him, all calm and geeky and reasonable on the outside, but Daniel's got a hard streak inside him a mile wide; he's a bundle of angry retribution, just waiting for a target. But he's private too, and I'm not sure how I'm gonna get him to open up and let out some of that anger before it completely engulfs him.

And I sure as hell can't let it distract him right now. "How 'bout when we get back, we do a pizza night thing, just you and me." The four of us have had team bonding nights, but he and I haven't spent any time together with just the two of us since he got his own place. Somehow, I think he's missing that. Looks like I'm right, because his face brightens up considerably, and he nods his agreement before going inside.

*****

The debrief was blissfully short. Tarzan and his people had no military to speak of, and their weapons were pathetic; all their metallurgical talents seems to go straight to their dicks. True, they had an impressive array of cock rings and other body jewelry, so if I ever decide to retire and open up a Buzz 'n Thump, I've got a built-in supplier, so there's that, I guess.

Once Daniel was able to convince Tarzan that Teal'c was an important member of our team and not available for barter as a sex-slave, His High Nudeness seemed bored with the rest of our negotiations. He agreed to let us collect soil and air samples in exchange for the couple of boxes of power bars Daniel always carries with him. Can't really blame him for traveling with a supply of the chocolate chip kind, I guess; he got a wife with one once.

Carter collected a bunch of leaves, roots and flowers so the bio-labs could study their hearts out testing for medicinal thingys, and I'm sure she'll be dazzling the geologists with stories of malachite mansions for weeks to come, once they've finished cataloging all the rocks and dirt and little bags of air she and Daniel made Teal'c lug back. If anything looks promising, Hammond'll send SG-4 back to pursue a trade agreement.

Poor Teal'c's taking his second shower since we got back, probably trying to rinse all the Tarzan-cooties off. I'm sure 'sex-slave' wasn't what he had in mind when he signed on for this gig.

Free on a forty-eight hour leave, Daniel catches me before I get to the elevator. "Can we do that thing tonight?"

"Thing? Oh, y'mean the pizza?" Gee, anxious, much? "Sure. Tonight's good."

"Great!" He points back over his shoulder. "I'll just go and change..."

I can't help but smile at his exuberance. "You do that."

*****

I'm home all of fifteen minutes before there's a knock at my door. Daniel's gotten changed, all right, and fast; his hair's still wet from the shower. Guess that clinches it; I've been ignoring him. God save me from needy academics. I wave him in and go to grab a couple of Heinekens. Don't have to get up early in the morning, so we can afford to indulge. For Daniel, that means he _might_ finish one beer.

Two hours later, I'm working on bottle number four, and he's just opened an unprecedented second. The pizza's long gone, and we're both slumped on the couch in front of a Broncos home game I know he doesn't care about. I offered to let him pick a pay-per-view movie, but he was quick to assure me he was fine watching the game. I glance over at him. His eyes are getting heavy; it's not even nineteen hundred hours yet, and he's just about comatose. No way he's driving home now. He's a real party animal, my Doctor Jackson.

"C'mon, big guy, let's get you to bed in the guest room."

"Naw, m'fine on the couch, Jack." He waves one hand at me in a dismissive gesture.

"You'll wake up with one of your headaches if you sleep with your neck bent that way, which is dumb, because I've got a perfectly good guest room going to waste."

"No really, I'm-"

"Daniel."

I hadn't really even gotten started yet, and he caves. With a weary sigh, he gives up. "Fine."

I shut off the TV and close up the house while he makes himself at home in the hall bathroom and then flops onto the guest room bed fully clothed.

"At least take your shoes off," I chide as I pass his room on my way to mine.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

By the time I'm done getting ready for bed, the light in the guest room's out. He's left the door open, which is a little odd, but I let him be, close mine quietly, and hit the sack.

The rented beer in my bladder wakes me an hour or so later, and after I take a piss, I decide to check on him, make sure he's okay. I open my bedroom door and nearly trip over him, all folded up at my feet. "What the hell...?" I mutter.

Daniel's awake now, peering at me owlishly in the semi-darkness, and he seems disoriented in a big way.

"What the hell are you doin' sleepin' in my hallway, for chrissake?"

"Um, I just... I dunno... I guess I kinda..."

I squat down in front of him to check him out; I've never known him to sleepwalk before. Sweeping his hair aside, I feel his forehead; no fever, he's probably still intoxicated, though. My god, he's a cheap date. "Daniel, what gives?"

He pushes my hand away. "I couldn't hear you," he mutters so softly I can barely hear him with half his face covered by shaggy hair.

"What?"

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a harsh sigh. "Breathing. Snoring. Couldn't hear you with the door closed." He's not looking at me, so I'm guessing he's feeling a little self-conscious about how odd this sounds.

I try not to smile. "Most people would consider that a blessing, Daniel."

He swipes a hand over his face. "I guess I've gotten used to hearing it when we're off world. Miss it when it's not there. Pretty stupid, huh?"

I settle back onto my butt, because as silly as I feel talking to a man wearing nothing but boxers on the floor in my dark hallway, killing my knees by squatting while doing it is just dumb. "That why you wanted to come over? Not for pizza and football and my scintillating personality?"

He snorts. "You gonna bill me later for that fifty-cent word?"

"Might."

He lets his head fall back to the wall, and in the little light there is, I can see his eyes are closed. I think he's hoping I'll let him go back to sleep on my hall floor without pursuing his odd behavior, but this colonel didn't fall off the half-track yesterday, y'know. Something's up with him, and I mean to find out what.

"Hey. You can talk to me." I can tell he's thinking about it and how vulnerable it might make him, whether or not I'll lose respect for him, weighing that loss against any potential gain. We're more alike than he knows. I know it's dangerous, letting him in, but I took that leap ages ago, on our first trip to Abydos; I've got nothing left to lose now.

"I've never really been able to sleep alone," he says, his voice barely over a whisper. "Growing up, on digs with my parents, we always shared a sleeping space. Then, after they... the foster homes always had other kids, y'know?"

He skipped right over the part where his parents were killed. I read his file, so I know what happened, but it doesn't seem like that's what he wants to talk about tonight. "Never had a room to yourself?" I ask.

"Not till after college. I'd just about gotten used to sleeping alone when Catherine found me... then--" he shrugs, and I fill in the blanks. Got used to sleeping with Sha're for a year, and then he moved into my guest room, and then...

"I was disappointed we didn't have to stay off world overnight," he admits softly. "I usually sleep great in the tent..."

"With me."

"Not 'with' you," he stresses, a little piqued. "Just... 'near' you. You didn't seem freaked out about the Pasha's antics, and I thought maybe you wouldn't get freaked out if I asked--"

"To sleep with me?"

He's scowling. "To leave your door open," he corrects me sharply and sighs a long-suffering gust of air from his lungs. "Just forget it. You know what? Sleep's overrated." He pushes off from the wall, straightening out his long legs. "I'll go on home--"

I grab him by the arm before he can scramble to his feet. "Why'd you think I'd have a problem with it?" I ask as gently as I can, already knowing the answer. We've never talked about it, but maybe it's time we did.

He yanks himself away from me and folds both arms across his bare chest, his eyes narrowed to slits, face oozing defiance. He's got some pretty solid defense mechanisms; I'll say that for him. "My personnel file's not exactly top secret, Jack."

Bingo. "Do you think if I had a problem with you being bi, I'd've been sharing a tent with you for the last three months?"

After a moment he shrugs and says, "I've learned never to assume it's not a problem for other people. Especially for homophobic military goon types."

"Hey! Is that any way to be talking to the guy you're gonna be sleeping with?" I retort, getting to my feet. I reach a hand down to him and wait.

"Um. What?"

I wiggle my fingers impatiently. "Oh, come on; it's no different than sharing a tent."

He blinks up at me for a second and then grips my hand and comes to his feet. "Now I'm feeling stupid," he mumbles. "You don't have to do this. Leaving your door open would be enough--"

I start back towards my bed. "Don't make more out of it than it is, Daniel. I sleep on the right, just like in the tent." I pull the covers back and get in, and he's still standing in the doorway. "Shut the door, will ya? Keeps out any cold drafts."

He hesitates for only a second before quietly closing the door and climbing in. He lies down, careful not to jostle the bed, pulling up the covers around his chest, and it's not lost on me how he's waaaaay over on his side. "Thanks, Jack," he says softly.

"No problem," I say confidently as I roll onto my side, facing away from him. Not surprisingly, he's asleep before I am.

 

*****

I must've drifted off at some point, because I jolt awake the minute I feel Daniel spoon up behind me. Eighteen months of sleeping alone since Sara left has switched on all kinds of alarms around my personal space. Daniel's breath is gusting against my neck, and it's pretty weird feeling his body heat against my back. I'm trying to figure out what to do about it when I feel the long line of his body, bony knees and all, curving around my backside. O-kay, I hadn't really been expecting this; he's never cuddled with me off world. I roll my shoulder and arch my spine a bit, pushing at him, and this makes him roll onto his back. Less room between us than we started off with, but at least we're not fused together anymore. I drift back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, he's back. I nudge him again, a little more briskly than before, and he rolls away. It's more difficult for me to fall asleep this time, because I'm anticipating him now. This dance goes on all night; by the time morning comes, I've resigned myself to being snuggled, and quit pushing him away from me.

*****

"You're looking rested," I observe through one bloodshot eye as I sip my coffee at the dining room table the next morning.

He grabs a cup, fills and doctors it and joins me. "Slept great, thanks. Better than I have in weeks."

That's one of us. "Is that why you've been looking like crap the last month or so?"

He nods. "I can fall asleep fine; in fact I do that a lot. I just can't seem to _stay_ asleep. Twenty minutes is about as long as it gets at a time."

"Not even long enough to get any useful REM."

He shakes his head, mouth full of steaming java. "Sometimes when I work late at the mountain, I'll find a bunkroom with some guys in it already asleep, and I can drop right off. Don't wake up until the last one's left, and I'm alone again."

"Did ya tell the Doc? Maybe she could give you something?"

"Yeah, I've tried sleeping pills; they make me feel heavy and stupid for a few hours, but no more rested."

God. That's tragic. "You shoulda said something."

He snorts. "Like what? 'Hey, Jack, how 'bout we sleep together, 'cause I really miss my wife.' Like that?"

"I get your point."

He shrugs, like it's nothing. "I just need to learn to sleep alone again. I'm sure it's possible; I've done it before, almost. I mean, even you've done it. How hard can it be?"

I grimace. "Gee. Thanks for caring."

He's smirking now. "No problem."

"You wanna hang around? Help me clean my gutters or something?" Might as well get something for my mostly sleepless night.

"Nah, I've got stuff to do. Thanks, though. I really mean that."

I sigh, contemplating a nap after lunch. "No problem, Daniel."

*****

We're Earth-side for a couple of days while Carter figures out what our next mission should be. Daniel's busy, making up some kind of linguistic crib sheet for SG-4, in case they're given a go to gate back to P4C-whatever the fuck it was we just got back from, and they need to deal with King Tarzan. Teal'c and I are trading calisthenics in the gym to pass the time.

Day four, and Daniel's got those circles under his eyes again. I stop by his office on my way topside. "Pizza tonight?"

He looks up at me like I've sprouted an extra head. "Wha- you sure?"

I shrug. "Yeah. Whenever you're done here."

He smiles a little. "Thanks, Jack."

There's no pretense this time when he comes over. He doesn't deliberately have a second beer just so I won't let him drive home. After the ten o'clock news, I toss him the remote in case he wants to stay up some more and head on down the hall to the bedroom, detouring into my bathroom to brush my teeth and stuff.

When I come out, the living room's dark and I can hear him in the hall bathroom. I climb into bed, turn onto my preferred sleeping side, and shut my eyes. He closes the door, and then the bed dips as he gets in. I hear his glasses set carefully on the nightstand, and he clicks off the light.

"G'night, Jack."

"Night, Daniel." Just like this was the most natural thing in the world for two guys to be doing. I wake up the first time he snuggles into me, but I don't bother to nudge him off. I briefly wonder what that means as I drift on back to sleep.

*****

Carter's having a hard time getting the stellar-drift thingy aligned, or some such gizmo malarkey, so we're still waiting for a mission, keeping busy planet-side. Hammond's decided to have me start training more people for field work, with an eye to forming another dozen SG teams within the next twelve months, as soon as he can pry some fundage out of the President.

I draft Teal'c and Daniel, and we're cammoed up and doing war games in the woods up top with the new recruits. At some point on day two of the 'Take-Back-Chulak' scenario, Daniel rushes up to my position and flattens himself against the tree I'm hiding behind.

"Pizza?" he pants.

"Sure." As easy as that.

The third time we sleep together, I never wake up once during the night. The next morning, I make a point not to wonder about it. Any of it.

Without discussion, he comes back the following night, and this time, it's my turn to seek the comfort. It all seems perfectly reasonable as I curl up behind him, my right arm snaked underneath his pillow, my left draped across his waist. As I close my eyes, I recall this is how Sara and I used to sleep. In those safe moments right before I drop off, I let myself wonder why all this isn't freaking me out.

*****

The planet Carter sends us to doesn't appear to be inhabited, so the soil, mineral and air collecting proceeds without a hitch. Daniel wants to investigate something the UAV picked up about a day's hike from there, so we set up camp for the night.

Daniel takes first watch while the rest of us bed down, and he only comes into our tent when Carter relieves him a couple of hours later. With a weary sigh, he ditches his boots and gets into his sleeping bag. We never talked about our sporadic sleeping arrangements after that first time in my hallway and the morning that followed. Apparently, just our proximity is enough for him to get to sleep, because the entire night passes without any cuddling at all. I find that I miss it, and that pisses me off.

The next morning, we hike for six hours to view the spot Daniel thought was a pile of interesting ruins, only to find out they're only a pile of uninteresting rocks. After a cheerless lunch of cold MRE's, I order a strenuous jog back to the gate rather than risk spending another night off world, and I don't stop to analyze why. No one complains, not a whimper, and _that_ pisses me off even more.

At home later that night, I channel surf crap I don't care about, one eye glued to the clock. At midnight, I finally admit I've been waiting up for him, and proceed to rip myself a new one. Somehow, helping Daniel cope with the loss of his wife has turned into something inappropriate on my side of my bed, and I can't have that.

*****

Piddley little missions come and go, and Daniel doesn't come by for a week. On the eighth night, there's a knock at my door at 2130 hours. I curse myself for a fool when my heart begins to race, and I deliberately wait and make him knock a second time. Presumptuous bastard; what makes him think I'm not entertaining a woman? Muttering to myself under my breath, I yank the door open, ready to share my anger, but I choke on it when I see him. His eyes are red and puffy, and the dark circles are back.

I grab his arm and pull him into the house, slam the door, and wrap my arms around him. "What?" I muffle into his hair. He's holding me back with a crushing embrace, using every ounce of his strength, which is considerable.

"SG-3 just gated in; they were on P97-452 and had a near run-in with Apophis." Based on the way he's gnashing his teeth, the tremor in his voice is one of anger, although it looks like some tears may've been shed on the way over.

I pull back, still holding onto his shoulders. He doesn't need to spell it out; I'm way ahead of him. "Did they see where he went?"

Lips pressed tightly together, he shakes his head grimly. "No. If we'd've pulled that mission, Jack, I'd've been there, I'd've made sure to see which glyphs were lit so we could've followed him to wherever he's keeping Sha're! I could've--"

"We can't pull every mission, Daniel; it's just not possible," I say reasonably. He yanks himself out of my grasp and stalks into my dining room, helping himself to my best Scotch, straight from the bottle. I let him get a good mouthful, then follow him and relieve him of the bottle, none too gently. "That won't help."

"How the fuck do you know?" he demands. "Is your wife being held prisoner? Is she being raped every day by that snake?" He's glaring at me, daring me to contradict him. "Do you know what it's like, being completely fucking helpless to do anything to protect someone you love?"

"Point taken," I manage, handing him back the Dewar's.

That night in bed, I open my arms to him for the first time, and there in the dark, he cries against my chest in huge, utterly silent, body-wracking, soul-wrenching sobs. After a while, he's sort of hiccupping, and his tears are finally gone; nothing more than drying puddles coating my t-shirt with salt. He's asleep before the hiccups stop, but it's a long time before I finally nod off. Helpless? Yeah, I know what helpless feels like.

*****

"Daniel's dead, sir." There on the ramp, moments after the wormhole closed behind us, I'd made myself say the words to Hammond. Dead. Gone. Consumed by flames that came at us from nowhere. Incinerated on the spot; nothing to bring home. Nothing left at all. We've got seven days stand down while Hammond tries to find a replacement for our dead team member; like just anyone could be a Daniel Jackson.

Hammond wanted me to speak at the memorial today, so I did. I don't remember what I said, because I kept thinking about how I'd held him tight two nights ago, while he cried for his missing wife. I'll never be able to do that again, and the thought's like a punch in the gut. He's gone. And I hurt. I hurt in ways I don't even want to think about.

Going through the motions of Daniel's memorial service, I realize I've been lying to myself. Worse, I've been lying to him, letting him think sleeping with me was still the uncomplicated comfort he'd innocently sought. And I don't know when it changed. I'm such a coward; it was probably the moment I told the General that Daniel was dead; the moment it was safe to understand the shape and texture of what he'd become to me.

*****

I hold an Irish wake for him at my house; it's all I know to do. It's amazing how many lives he's already touched in the short time the SGC's been in business.

My head's been pounding since we got back from that planet, drenched and suffering from PTS, and now everything inside me's all jumbled up. Anger, self-pity, regret, just for starters. The crap that keeps bubbling up in my head fuels my impatience with everything around me, and out in my driveway, I use a hockey stick to take my rage out on a convenient car window. I'm convinced retirement's in order. For real, this time. I want to get as far away from the SGC as I possibly can.

Hammond puts me off, telling me he wants SG-1 to close up Daniel's apartment. _Bastard! _He's got no way to know how dirty I feel walking into Daniel's house uninvited like this. Carter finds one of his journals from Abydos and starts reading it out loud. _Jack says we'll find her; if anyone can, he can._ I stop her because I can't listen to any more. Sha're's been gone for almost three months, and I've let him down. He has such faith in me; it hurts.

_Has? Has_ faith? God! Nothing feels right! He's dead, but he's not.

Doc Fraiser runs a thousand more tests, and now she's sure our memories have been tampered with. We're all equally screwed up, so that's comforting, I guess. Who or whatever messed with our heads doesn't want us going back to that planet. Some new addition to the base medical staff, a shrink named MacKenzie, wants to hypnotize me. Fat chance; like that's gonna happen. I can't risk letting some quack crawl around in my head; what if he found out that Daniel and I occasionally slept together? Yeah, Daniel and I both know it was all innocent-- comfort, friendship, not sex, but the Air Force won't see it that way. They won't make that subtle but important distinction.

I could hear the direction of my court martial questioning now-- No, sir, I wasn't worried about becoming too close to him; he was a geek, a civilian academic, and as such, I already treated him differently, General. The fact that he was my occasional bed partner changes nothing, sir. The fact that holding him in my arms had started to feel pretty damned good is totally immaterial, sir. The fact that I'd started to think about sticking my tongue down his throat is completely and utterly beside the fucking point. _Sir._

So Carter, presumably without any dirty little secrets like mine, talks to MacKenzie. God, I hate shrinks! I've been tortured by the enemy in ways that look an awful lot like what she's going through right now. But she's strong; she stays with it. And with MacKenzie's help, Carter's broken through the memory wipe thingy. Aha, look at that; it looks like we _did_ leave Daniel behind...

"My god, Colonel! We left him behind!"

I pull her into my arms, more for my sake than hers. "It's all right. We're going back... we're going back." I've never geared up so fast in my life; the three of us are pounding up the ramp in something less than ten minutes. Nothing we can really do till the scuba team gets there, but I told Hammond I wasn't waiting on them, and he didn't argue. No one would've gone to the trouble to plant those false memories, if Daniel weren't still alive. I can't let myself think anything else.

We come out of the gate in that godforsaken place and start running toward the sea, me leading the way. It's the last place we saw Daniel, so we stand near the water's edge, looking out over that empty space, waiting for the scuba team, or maybe for some sign of a miracle.

All of a sudden there's a disturbance near us, and thirty seconds later, some big blue fish stick guy comes walking out of the water towards us. I hear Teal'c charge his staff weapon. "Easy, Teal'c," I say under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear. If anyone's gonna shoot Charlie the Tuna, it'll be me.

I'm about to threaten his ugly mug with severe and fatal ventilation if he doesn't hand over my archaeologist, when there's another disturbance further out in the water. Suddenly, Daniel breaks the surface, gasping for breath like he's been shot out of a cannon. Well, spank me rosy and speak of the devil!

I feel like whooping for joy and mowing down the standing pile of blue seaweed in front of me at the same time. "Don't shoot!" Daniel calls out before starting to swim for shore. Oh, of course, Daniel, why would I harbor ill will toward some alien refugee from a latex factory, when all he's done is convince us you'd burned alive and hold you prisoner for three days? We're buddies, in fact. No problems here.

Panting and dripping, Daniel slogs out of the water, rattling off some version of his 'Peaceful Explorer' dance. Only this man could befriend his captor without it crossing the line into Stockholm Syndrome. He's amazing.

The fish starts talking in stilted English, which Daniel probably taught him. "And in time, Daniel, you will find what fate Sha're."

Okay, what? Daniel's just nodding, like all that makes sense, and the blue guy dives back into the water. We expectantly gather around Daniel as he watches the alien disappear. "Ah... this is a looong story..."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Sam says, relief allowing her to smile for the first time in days. Teal'c stands guard at Daniel's back, glaring furiously at the place where the alien dude went down. He's mad 'cause I didn't let him shoot the guy; I know just how he feels.

God, what a mess; life and death and back again. "Tell us about it over sushi?" I grin, because I can do comical and keep my cool, especially when the heavy feeling in my gut's finally gone. I feel like hugging Daniel and never letting go, but that'd be awkward around my MP5, and comical's safer than mushy anyway.

"That's funny," Daniel smiles back. "I will, after I go get some _sleep."_ His glasses are MIA, and his eyebrows arch meaningfully in my direction at the word 'sleep'. I figure the others can't have missed it.

"Ah... home... yeah, about that apartment--" I turn back toward the stargate and start walking.

He sputters indignantly. "Oh, you didn't!"

"The, um, day after the memorial service," Sam says a little sheepishly.

"Memorial service?!" he squeaks.

"The colonel said some really nice things," Carter assures him. D'oh! Thanks, Carter. _Crap._

"He... he did?" Daniel asks Carter. She nods, but doesn't elaborate. Smart move, Captain. "He did?" Daniel turns to Teal'c for additional confirmation.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the big guy's solemn nod. "He did, in fact, speak many words." God, ya gotta love the literal mind of the Jaffa.

I can tell there's gonna be questions the next time Daniel and I are alone, and I'm not sure I have any answers. All the crazy thoughts that've been rolling around in my head these last three days... well, I've got to come to terms with them on my own. Daniel's a married man, and I won't intrude on that. I gave him my word we'd find Sha're, and I mean to keep that promise. I owe him that, and so much more.

*****

No one will tell me what Jack said at my memorial. Sam gets this strangled, bug-eyed look, like she'd rather cut off her own right arm than talk about it, and Teal'c... well, all I can get out of him is, 'It is of no consequence, since you did not actually die'. He's so logical and literal, sometimes I want to scream.

At least they didn't really close up my apartment. It's taken me nearly three months to furnish it and stop living out of a suitcase, and I'd hate like hell to have to start over. Again. Must've been weird for them, thinking I'd died some fiery death. I'm flattered they cared enough to be upset; that's pretty different for me, actually. I wish they'd tell me about it; it'd be kinda nice to hear, but that's probably selfish of me, I guess.

Doctor Fraiser checked me out thoroughly, and I was allowed to take a long, hot shower before General Hammond debriefed me. It feels _so_ good to finally be warm and dry. I was starting to feel like one of the ceramic figures in my fish tank, with a nice coating of algae in all my bodily creases from the ninety-nine percent humidity in that room Nem kept me in.

Poor guy, waiting for four thousand plus years to find out what happened to his mate. I know just how he feels. Not a moment goes by, I'm not thinking about Sha're and what she must be going through. To think we were so close to running into Apophis the other day, only to have him slip through our fingers again... It's killing me to know that it's my fault she was taken. If I'd've just left the damned Abydos gate buried...

Hindsight's 20/20, they say. Over and over, memories and images from that day constantly run through my mind, like some kind of sick background music to everything else I'm doing. If only I'd've let her come with me when I was showing Jack and the others the Cartouche room, she'd've been safe. One stupid decision, and now she, Kasuf and Ska'ara are paying for my carelessness.

I try to make myself useful to the SGC, to General Hammond, so they'll let me keep going through the gate. She's out there somewhere, and I'll never stop looking for her. I'll go on all of the mineral surveys they want, all the meet and greets, on the slim chance we run across a clue to where that bastard's taken her. I know that, with Jack's help, I _will_ find her, them. Like when we met the Nox; he turned that entire mission around on my say-so.

I really wish Jack was available tonight. I'm exhausted, and I know I'll fall asleep the moment my head hits a pillow, but I also know it won't last. I could really use some company, but he's stuck on base; some kind of paperwork having to do with me not being dead anymore, he said.

It's strange to think about, but the couple of times he's let me stay with him have felt completely natural to me. He didn't make fun of me for needing the sounds of other people near me when I sleep, and he didn't seem the least bit freaked out by being so close to me in that intimate way. I'm grateful, if not a little confused. When we first met, he was probably the biggest military goon of them all. He was dragging a lot of pain around with him then, and although that was the reason he'd been chosen for the mission in the first place, somehow, fortunately, freeing the Abydonians from Ra seemed to give him a new lease on life.

I'm glad for that, because what was underneath the flyboy hardass turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He's warm and funny, affectionate and resourceful, and nowhere near as dumb as he lets people believe he is. I'm sure there's a tactical reason for the thick-witted act; he wouldn't do it otherwise. He's a leader in every sense of the word; he'd have to be for someone like Teal'c to give up everything to follow him. I trust Jack O'Neill like I've never trusted anyone else in my life.

*****

It's been ten days since they pulled me off Nem's planet, and I'm afraid Jack's avoiding me. He's not been available once. He's either working late, or I am, and by the time I drive to his place, it's late, and the house is completely dark. I figure he's probably already asleep, so I keep on driving. I'm not so selfish that I'd wake him up and ruin his sleep, just so I can get a few hours of rest for myself. Sometimes I go back to the base and try to find an occupied bunkroom; sometimes I just go home, turn on CNN and crash on my couch.

I just found out from Sam that Jack spent our recent downtime in Denver. He didn't even tell me he was going out of town for a game. I'd've liked to have gone with him, not so much for the sport, as for the company. I enjoy spending time with Jack; did even before he started helping me with my insomnia. Although, truthfully, that's added another facet to our friendship. Not every guy will selflessly invite you into his bed like that. I know he considers me a little bit odd... or maybe more than a little. But he cares enough about all of the members of his team to find out what they need and make sure they get it; that's how Teal'c got cable.

That was certainly the case a couple of weeks ago, when I barged into his house and drank most of his scotch. I was beside myself that night, filled with guilt and rage and disappointment, and furious at not having been there for the close call with Apophis. Jack let me drink and holler and seethe with undisguised self-contempt, never batting an eye. Afterwards, he held me in his arms and let me cry it all out until I fell asleep. Never judging me, never accusing. Just holding me together with the strength of his friendship. I've never known anyone like Jack before. Never. I'm so lucky to be able to call him my friend.

*****

Okay, now I'm sure something's wrong. We've had three missions since Nem's planet, and not only is Jack still avoiding me off-base, his cold attitude toward me on missions has apparently even been noticed by the others. After we finished the debriefing from this last pointless mineral survey, Sam pulled me aside to ask if Jack and I were fighting about something. I didn't know what to tell her. The last thing I knew, he was being caring and supportive, and then the Nem-thing happened, and it's like he's furious with me for something, and I don't even know what I did to piss him off. I've got to get him to talk to me somehow, to clear the air between us.

*****

"Got plans for the evening?" I ask.

Jack glances over his shoulder at me as he's signing out at the second checkpoint. Is it my imagination, of is he looking a little cornered? "Ah, actually--"

"Hey, it's Friday. You wanna come over for dinner at my place?" I interrupt before he can concoct an excuse of some kind. "There's a new, um, Thai place across the street from my building, and I thought we could do take out." I sign my name below his and move aside for the airman behind me to do the same.

He seems to think about it a second -if I didn't know better, I'd say he was threat-assessing- and then quirks a half-smile and acquiesces with a shrug. "Sure. Thai's good."

I'm ridiculously relieved, and I'm sure I'm grinning stupidly. "Great. You wanna follow me?"

And then he smiles, a real one, not the phony ones he's been giving me lately, and this feels like the old Jack. "Right behind ya."

As I drive home, I can't keep myself from continually glancing in the rear view mirror to make sure he's still behind me. I'm not sure what I'm gonna say to him once we get there, but I can't keep pretending nothing's wrong.

*****

I hit the off button on my TV's remote control and drop it carelessly back onto the coffee table. "You ready to tell me what's going on with you?" We've finished the food, and I don't know about Jack, but I'm as ready as _I'll_ ever be.

Seated on the couch beside me, he momentarily tenses up, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Daniel."

Sure he doesn't. Tell me another one. "It seems like you've been, I dunno, avoiding me or something."

And now he's sitting back, the picture of forced casual, one arm across the back of the couch, just like he's done a dozen times before. He's good. "There's nothin' wrong; everything's fine. I've just had a lot on my mind, that's all." A smile, clearly strained.

"I must've done something to upset you, Jack. One minute we're friends, hanging out and doing stuff together, and I feel like I can tell you anything, and the next you're pulling away like I've got cooties or someth--" The look on his face speaks volumes; okay, I've got it in one. "Oh, god, that's it, isn't it? My insomnia. I asked for too much, and it made you uncomfortable."

"That's not it!" He's shaking his head, but he won't meet my eyes.

"It sure seems like it."

"It's not you. You didn't do anything wrong."

I just keep looking at him. I'm sure that's it now, even though it's so obvious there's something more he's trying not to say. "I did something inappropriate while we were sleeping together, didn't I?" I ask softly. That has to be it; I must've gotten hard and rubbed up against him in my sleep or something. He's freaked out, and with good reason; he's as straight as they come. "I'm so sorry, Jack, if I... that's unforgivable. I never wanted it to be awkward for you--"

He's off the couch now, frowning, hands balled up into fists at his side. "That's. Not. It." Practically growling at me, too.

Well, I'm sorry this is making him angry, but I can't just leave it like this. Somehow, I need to get us back to where we were friends. I miss that; I _need_ it. "Then what?" I stand to face him. "If I didn't make a pass at you in my sleep, what else could it be that's making you act this way?"

His lips have thinned, his eyes are narrow and dark, and he's angrier than I've ever seen him. He's seething, but controlling it. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I'd LIKE holding you while you sleep?"

He's nearly yelling, so I can hear him just fine, but the words themselves are made up of some kind of language I've never heard before in my life, and that's saying something. "What?" I manage.

"What d'ya mean, 'what'?" he hollers. "I LIKE holding you! I like TOUCHING you! I like the way your SKIN smells! GET IT _NOW?"_

He looks disgusted with me, and I guess I deserve it, because I'm feeling pretty thick at the moment. I'm blinking stupidly, I know I am, but I just can't get his words to make any sense to me. "You... like... me...?" His jaw is clenching and his nostrils are flaring and he's really pissed off. The light slowly dawns in my dense skull... "As in, you like me/like me?"

"Oh, what are we, in kindergarten now?" he yells.

The next thing I know, he's grabbing the back of my head and yanking me in for a kiss. His fingers are pressing into the back of my skull and his tongue's pushing into my mouth as our teeth clatter together. Hot air's gusting out of his nose against my face, and I'm gonna have a big, honkin' cheek print on my glasses when he's done, which I find I'm not in any big hurry for. This is the hottest kiss I've ever had...

His tongue's huge and all over the place and he tastes like curry and I _love_ curry and it's so hot and getting hotter and his arms have completely enfolded me now and I'm grabbing him back and ohgodohgodohgod I can feel his dick and it's hard and now so am I and there's moaning and I think it's me but it might be him and jesus_FUCK_ this feels good--

With a last whimper torn from his throat like a living thing, he roughly pushes me away. "That clear enough for ya, Professor?" he growls.

I'm panting, feeling bruised and ragingly horny. "What the fuck was that?" I say hoarsely, dragging my arm across my wet mouth. Jack's spit. All over my face.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear." His eyes narrow as he takes a half step closer to me. "Wanna try a remedial class?"

I hold up a hand to forestall his approach. "No, no. I get it now," I pant pathetically. "I just don't understand it. You're straight," I proclaim, helpfully reminding him because he's clearly forgotten.

He tilts his head a bit, and his eyes are boring holes straight through me. "Not so much."

"Huh?" And there it is. "Oh. Oh, god."

"There ya go." He waves a hand at me as he glares. "This genius thing of yours isn't something you keep turned on all the time, is it?"

"I suppose not," I mutter as I fall back heavily onto my couch. Jack's stalking around my living room, looking at stuff, touching everything, just so he doesn't have to look at me. Or touch me. I struggle to understand what's just happened. Jack wants me. Sexually. He's not straight after all. Gay? Bi? Does it even matter? I'm married, I can't- Shit! He's military, _he_ can't. We... _can't._ "What a mess," I murmur as I lean forward, supporting my now-throbbing head with my hands.

"Ya think?"

"That's why you were avoiding me," I groan.

"Bingo." He risks a quick glance at me before going back to fingering a priceless Abydonian fertility totem I keep on my piano. "Got it in one," he mumbles.

I take a deep breath in an effort to replace some of the oxygen he's just sucked out of my lungs. "So. Not mad at me after all."

"Nope."

"Not disappointed with the retarded civilian."

"Hardly."

"Just need to get your rocks off."

Another glance, and this one includes a furrowed brow and down turned corners of the mouth. "Not even fuckin' close."

I can still taste him on my lips from the way he just ransacked my mouth, and my dick's at Mach 2, trying to attain escape velocity, a metaphor I know wouldn't be lost on Jack. I'd been so sure I had it figured out, and he's just blown my perfectly reasonable theory right out of the water. "Then I have absolutely no idea what we're talking about."

"Obviously." He starts for the front door.

"Hey!" I'm standing again now. "Wait!"

Across the room, his hand stalls on the knob, and as he turns around, he seems less angry, more like sad now, and his voice is quiet. "Daniel, we can't talk about this. Not ever. Do you understand?"

I spread my hands and shrug helplessly. "Apparently not. Can't you stay and explain it to me? Please?"

His eyes close for a second like he's considering it, like he wants to, but he thinks better of it and his whole body goes rigid. Just moments ago, his face had shown some tantalizing mixture of emotions I've never seen before. They were only there for a split second, so I didn't have a chance to try and catalog them; now they're all gone, and his face is completely barren of all expression. "It was a misunderstanding, and I apologize," he says formally. "If you'd feel more comfortable transferring to a different team, I'll sign the papers; no questions asked. Please let it go with that." And then he's gone.

I stand staring at my front door for what feels like decades, feeling exceptionally dim-witted. How could I not have known Jack was gay? Why didn't I ever get any vibes from him? Why didn't he tell me?

_Because he has to hide it, stupid,_ the tiny portion of my brain that's still functioning replies. Oh. Right. Military. I feel slightly less dim and quickly move on to the next salient point. He's a great kisser.

_Well, yes, he is, but what does that really have to do with you?_ His lips are very soft, and his tongue's a lethal weapon. I really, really enjoyed it.

_I can tell; nice boner._ Shut up.

_You're. Married._ I'm married. I am. Oh, god... I kissed him back... And I would've kept on kissing him, if he hadn't pushed me away. I would've--

_What? Spread your legs?_ In a heartbeat. Oh, god. What's the matter with me? My dick's gone completely soft in shame over my near run-in with infidelity. My wife's missing for barely three months, and already I'm thinking about fucking someone else? I'd like to give myself a break, to say I was taken by surprise, but my reptilian brain homes in on the word 'taken', and I can't seem to get past it.

Yes, I'd've bent over for him; I like sex, and I love sex with men. Jack's a good-looking man; I've thought so since the first time I looked up and saw him standing next to Ferretti in the tablet room under the mountain. But I dismissed it then, because I presumed Jack was straight. I was _sure_ he was straight. And now I know he's not. God, it's been such a long time since I've had a hard-

_Okay, that's enough; that's just plenty._ Yes, Jack's hot, and yes, he's gay, or at least bi, and it looks-sounds-feels like he wants me, but I can't. I'm married.

But I keep coming back to _he wants me._ What am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to forget that? Now that I've felt him hard up against me at the same time his tongue was fucking my mouth- _Okay, just stop it. Seriously. Cold shower time._

*****

I became comfortable with my sexuality a long time ago; back in high school. I'm attracted to both men and women, if not equally, at least with equal passion.

I was surprised to find myself married to Sha're, but in no way repulsed by it. She was soft in all the right places, with full breasts, lush, dark hair under her arms and between her legs, and a sweetness inside I could never get enough of. I didn't sublimate my sexuality to her. She knew I found men attractive as well, but I never gave her any cause to doubt my faithfulness to her with either gender. I believe in monogamy -one relationship at a time, anyway- I always have. I truly love Sha're with all my heart and soul, and I long to have her in my arms again, free of the beast that possesses her.

So why did I wake up dreaming about Jack this morning?

I've been endlessly rethinking the last fifteen months of my life since the moment he walked out my door last night.

Why did he leave me on Abydos? Did he want me then? I never would've stayed there, if I'd known I had a chance with him. I grew to love my wife dearly, but that emotion certainly wasn't there up front. It didn't hit me in the gut, like my feelings for Jack had, the moment I turned to find him standing in the tablet room oozing raw sexuality from every pore and completely oblivious to it. I remember having to turn my gaze to Catherine, because I couldn't keep breathing and look at him at the same time. If he'd wanted me back then...

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. How dare he! What gave him the right to decide for both of us?

But I'm not a free man like I was then. I gave my heart to Sha're more than a year ago, and I have no right to look elsewhere for love or comfort. She betrays me every day, but not of her own free will. I have autonomy and can opt to act on my attraction to Jack or not. I can choose to ignore the pull of his personality, the fire in his eyes. In the field, I question his decisions when it seems there's a better, less destructive way to do things. But if he looked at me with desire, if his smile beckoned me, I wouldn't have question one.

But he won't. He's a man of honor. He'll keep his feelings and needs tightly under control forever, because he respects me; he respects her. My promise to her is important to him; that makes me desire him all the more. Now that I know he wants me, too, I'm not sure my own honor's up to the kind of denial working with him every day will require.

I suppose this means I can't expect any more help with my insomnia.

*****

I've driven to his house, waited in my car at the curb, debating with myself for the better part of an hour. It's Saturday night. There are no lights on in Jack's house, but I know he's in there, awake, because I can see the flickering of the television as he switches the channels from one to another. Finally, I get up the nerve to knock on his door. When it isn't answered, I ball my hand up into a fist and pound a little more insistently. Finally the door opens. He doesn't look surprised to see me.

"I need to know when." For a split second, he looks like he's going to slam the door in my face and end our dialogue that way. I'm ready for him if he does; I'll shoulder my way past him if I have to. We're having this conversation, and we're having it tonight.

His head dips, and he turns around, headed for his dining room. I step in and close the door behind me. He grabs the scotch -a new bottle, I see- and two glasses, glaring as he passes me on the way into his living room.

Angrily, he sets the glasses down and slops some of the amber liquor in each of them. Leaving one on the table, he takes the other and goes to stand by a window, his back to me. He doesn't want to face me? Fine, we'll do it his way. I snag the drink he left on the coffee table on my way to making myself comfortable on his couch.

"Not Abydos," he says before I can say anything.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." Okay. That bleeds a lot of the anger off. If he didn't want me then, or didn't know he did, which is the same thing, then my relationship with Sha're is untouched. Some part of me -a pretty large part- is grateful for that. So his feelings for me are recent; at least, since we got back.

"Before Tarzan's planet?"

"No."

So. Only in the last month, then. Good. At least now I don't feel like he's been lying to me the whole time we've known each other. "Is it because he looked like me?" I ask quietly, afraid of the answer.

"Not at all." That makes me feel better; I was afraid he might be transferring some fantasy to me because of a random physical similarity to the Pasha.

But I'm running out of hypothesis. Recent, but not because of Pasha... "The insomnia?"

He shakes his head, still staring out the window. I hate having to drag the truth out of him one piece at a time like this, but it's clear having an actual conversation isn't permitted. Don't ask/don't tell, maybe? So, twenty questions it is. I wrack my brain for something that might've triggered his feelings for me. He offered to let me sleep near him because of my insomnia, but he said that didn't do it. Then I remember the last time. SG-6. "The night I drank your scotch and had that humiliating meltdown?"

The headshake is smaller, but there. What else is there? The day after that, we went to Nem's planet and-

"When you thought I'd died." It isn't a question, because that's all that's left. He knocks back the entire contents of his glass in one massive swallow, and that's all the confirmation I'm going to get.

And it makes sense; they say you never know what you've got till it's gone. That must've compounded his grief at my supposed death, figuring out at that point that I meant more to him than just being a friend and a member of his team.

But I'll bet it wasn't near as bad as finding out later that I hadn't really died and realizing he was going to have to live with his newly found feelings and still have to see me every day.

Now that I have my answer, and I've seen what it cost Jack to give it to me, I'm ashamed I hadn't been able to let it go earlier. I set my drink untouched on the coffee table and get to my feet. Moving towards the door, I stop at the steps. "I'm sorry," I say gently. When he doesn't reply, I let myself out.

*****

First thing Monday morning, there's a sarcophagus in the gate room. I've still got some notoriety on the outside, and that actually came in handy for once. Within the hour, we find out the box belongs to Hathor.

"Have you heard of her?" Jack asks me.

"Hathor was the Egyptian goddess of fertility, inebriety and music," I reply. I know the opening I've just given him, and hope like hell he takes it. I _so_ want us to be able to get past the revelations of the past weekend.

"Sex, drugs, and rock and roll?"

Thank god; maybe we _can_ still work together. "In a manner of speaking. Um, are the cuffs absolutely necessary?"

And that's right about when stuff starts to get fuzzy. I heard myself saying things that sounded a little off to my ears, but I couldn't quite pin down why. I remember urging General Hammond to trust Hathor, and thinking it odd that he did, but what stands out in my mind is Jack calling out, "Whoa, Danny!" I haven't been called that since high school... his name was Brad.

I remembered all of it, once the pink mist had worn off completely. By the time I'd showered and changed out of my BDUs I'd remembered Hathor taking off my glasses and kissing me, her hands stroking me... What I wouldn't give for a little selective amnesia right now.

"A lot of that will probably be mine," I admit numbly to Doctor Fraiser.

"Ewww," Jack winces, the master of understatement.

"Yeah."

Sam and the Doctor are getting commendations for taking back the base, and well they should. The handful of women on duty that day may well have saved us all.

I'm waiting at the second elevator, wishing there was a faster way out of the mountain. The deliberate cough behind me makes me turn. "Jack?"

The doors open just then, and he gets in. "You comin'?" he asks.

"Yeah."

We're alone for fifteen floors, and the silence between us is pretty thick. Finally, as the car starts to slow, Jack says, "You okay?"

I turn to look at him, and his expression is surprisingly open and gentle. I look away, not wanting him to see what must be so blatantly clear in my eyes right now. "Not really, no."

As the doors open and we stride out into the final checkpoint area, he slips into his jacket and casually says, "You wanna come by for some pizza? Maybe talk?"

He knows what happened between Hathor and me; soon everybody on the base will. I don't know how I'm going to face any of them. "I don't think I really want to talk about it."

"How 'bout just the pizza then?" He's pushing; why?

"I'm fine, Jack. You don't need to-"

"I'm not doing that."

"What?"

"Babysitting you."

I frown. "You some kind of mind reader?"

"It's a hobby," he smirks. "C'mon." He grabs my elbow and propels me toward his truck.

I jerk my arm away. "I'm _fine;_ I don't want to go to your house," I state categorically.

"Okay by me," he replies as if he'd been expecting the refusal. He detours to the second parking row, dragging me with him by the edge of my coat. "We'll go to your place."

*****

It's late, almost midnight when we get there. "Why are you here, Jack?"

"You invited me for pizza."

"You invited yourself for pizza."

He shrugs. "Same thing."

"I'm not really hungry," I say meaningfully, hanging up my coat.

Jack takes his jacket off and tosses over the back of the couch, stuffing his hands into his pockets, looking around the room. "Me neither."

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed," I say, pointing down the hall.

"Fine by me. Mind if I sack out on your couch?"

"Jack-"

"Daniel?"

"What're y'doin'?"

He sits, now, Mister Innocent, arm thrown casually across the back of my couch. "What d'ya mean?"

"Come off it, you're being completely transparent."

"Oh, so now _you're_ a mind reader?"

"Jack."

"Daniel."

"God damn it, Jack, I don't feel like playing your petty games right now! In case you haven't noticed, I've had a pretty bad day!" I'm yelling, and I don't care; it's my house.

"Hey!" he yells back indignantly, "I was floating in a tub full of your snake babies, how the hell do you think I feel?"

"My ba- babies? You think of them as babies? As _mine?"_

"Don't you? Isn't that why you're so freaked out?"

"God, NO! It wasn't, but thanks, I probably will now!"

"Then what _is_ bothering you?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not a mind reader, remember?"

"It doesn't _take_ a mind reader, Jack! I betrayed my wife with her!"

He looks surprised. "You had sex with Hathor willingly?"

"Of course not!"

He shrugs. "Then it wasn't really a betrayal, was it?"

_"What? _

"Did you have sex with her willingly?" Jack enunciates slowly, getting up off the couch.

"I told you, NO!"

"Then you were 'unwilling'." Air quotes; I fuckin' hate that.

"YES!"

He's standing in front of me now. "That's rape, Daniel." His face goes soft, and his voice lowers to a whisper. "You didn't betray your wife; you were raped."

The sheer, stunning force of that simple, whispered truth knocks all the wind out of me. The next thing I know, Jack's arms are around me, we've collapsed into a tangled pile on the floor, and I'm losing it.

*****

At some point, Jack must've shifted us, because he's leaning back against the side of the couch now, and I'm curled up against his side. His shirt's wet where I've dripped tears and snot all over him. His arms are still firmly around me, engulfing and supporting me and keeping me safe. I notice the herbal scent of the soap he uses, and my thoughts flash back to three nights ago in this very room, and him yelling at me, _'I like the way your skin smells; get it NOW?'_

What kind of a man puts himself through this? Puts himself out there to give me the affection and support I so desperately need, even though that means he's got to shove his own, deeper desires aside to do it?

One hell of a good friend.

"How am I gonna face her again?" I hear myself mumble against his chest.

"Like you're gladder than hell she's back in your life, that's how," he says right away, like he's been giving it some thought. "Are you gonna hold what happened with that shithead Apophis against her?"

I pull out of his arms and immediately regret the loss of his body heat. "What? NO!"

"How is Hathor different?" he demands quietly. "How is what happened to you in any way different than what Apophis is doing to Sha're?"

I pull my glasses off and toss them onto the coffee table; they're smeared and useless now anyway. I just shake my head.

"It's not different," he repeats. "Look, it could be years before we find her-"

"NO!"

"YES! I don't want to think about that, either, but it's a big, fuckin' galaxy out there, Daniel! We'll do the best we can, but it's a needle in a haystack; you've GOT to know that!"

I'm glaring at him like he's responsible for all the pain in my life. And he's not. In fact, he's the only part of my life that's worth a damn right now. I don't know what I'd do without his support and encouragement. I can't think I'd last very long out there without him watching my back. And he's right; it could take years. I have no right to be angry with him for telling me the truth.

I lean forward and press my lips to his. For a split-second, it feels like he's going to respond, then he pushes me away gently. "No."

But now I'm sure of what I want. "You're right, Jack, it could take years. And there's no guarantee that by the time we find her, either one of us will be the same person we once were-"

"No," Jack repeats firmly, getting to his feet. I follow him up, and we're standing toe to toe. "You're in a really vulnerable place right now, and I'm not gonna take advantage of that."

"But-"

"I said _no,_ Daniel." He's looking mad now. "I'm not interested in a buddy-fuck arrangement with you." He's starting for the door.

"Is that what it would be?"

"If it's stress relief while you're still searching for your kidnapped wife, then yeah, I don't see how it could be anything more than that."

I've outpaced him, and I get to the door first, bracing my arm against it to keep it closed as his hand finds the doorknob. "Do you _want_ it to be more than that?" He turns to look at me, and we're close enough, I can feel his breath on my face. I'm not sure he's going to give me an answer. "Please... just tell me that." He's looking at me with such intensity in his eyes, I'm afraid they're going to suck me in. I'm also afraid they won't.

He reaches out to cup my face, tenderly running his thumb across my cheekbone. "If you were free..." he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Jude for her stunning alpha/beta assistance. All remaining mistakes are my own.


End file.
